


a moth to flame

by neroh



Series: a moth to flame [5]
Category: Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit (2014), The Bourne Supremacy (2004)
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, M/M, Roleplay, Vacation, spies in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 06:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11374824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: First it was the cruiser in Madeira, where they own a villa when they aren’t in New York.Then it was tickets to Austria for their anniversary; not the day they met, but the one where Jack fell into Kirill and together, they fell in love.Now, he’s in a dark club in Vienna and ready for whatever planned distraction Kirill has devised in that beautiful brain of his.





	a moth to flame

**Author's Note:**

> Basically porn. Enjoy!

Jack’s lingering over his drink, clutching the tumbler as his eyes survey the club that is spread out in front of him.

It’s almost like a lover—of the anonymous sort whose secrets are wide open and ready to be divulged.

Jack doesn’t have secrets. Not many, at least and _especially_ from him. Him being Kirill, who he’s been waiting on for ages, wondering what surprise he has up his sleeve. First, it was the cruiser in Madeira where they own a villa when they aren’t in New York.

Then it was tickets to Austria for their anniversary; not the day they met, but the one where Jack fell into Kirill and together, they fell in love.

Now, he’s in a dark club in Vienna and ready for whatever planned distraction Kirill has devised in that beautiful brain of his.

 _Just play along_ , the note had read, sitting in wait as Jack came out of the hotel bathroom, toweling off his wet hair and the room empty. His boyfriend was gone, of course, and at least had the common decency to leave an address instead of sending him on a wild goose chase.

The alcohol is bitter and burns the tissues in his mouth and throat as Jack swallows it down. He turns back towards the bartender to order another just as another person sits down next to him.

The bartender, a girl with peroxide blonde hair and gaudy clothing, flips a coaster at the new patron. “What will it be?” she asks in broken English. Her tongue curls heavily over consonants and vowels.

“Vodka on the rocks,” replies a rumbling voice laced in a Russian accent.

Jack turns, catching Kirill’s profile in the palpitating Technicolor lights, and blinks.

He looks different in this setting, though it’s not to say that he isn’t lovely. There is something darker, more sinister: the way his flared nostrils, dark hair, and Cupid’s bow lips appear in the shadows. How his skin glows and the way the lights land upon a scar just above Kirill’s ear, partially hidden by his short hair. He has the beginnings of a beard; something Kirill does habitually when the winter months come. Jack likes it, just how he likes everything about Kirill.

“You need something?” the man asks, turning his cool gaze to Jack. He is speaking barely passable English on purpose and it makes Jack’s groin coil with warmth.

_Just play along._

Jack tilts his head and smiles. “You look like a friend of mine,” he tells him.

“A friend?” Kirill says dubiously as one of his graceful brows arches.

Jack nods. “Yes…a friend.”

The bartender brings the drink over, setting it down in front of Kirill before realizing that Jack’s drink is empty. She diligently refills it before sauntering off to the other end of the bar.

“Tell me about this friend,” Kirill orders before taking a sip. There is a teasing glint in his dark eyes and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Was he good friend?”

“He was a lover actually.”

“A lover? And I look like him?”

Jack nods as he brings his drink to his lips. “You're nearly identical.”

“Is this what you Americans call a pick-up line?” Kirill inquires.

“It depends,” Jack replies with a coy grin. “Is it working?”

He can feel Kirill’s eyes as they look at him for a while, taking in each and every detail before smirking. “ _Da_ ,” he replies. “Possibly.”

“Jack,” he says, extending his hand. “Pray tell, do you have a name?”

The man shakes his hand. “Dragomirov.”

“Is there a first name to go with that last name?”

“ _Nyet_ , there is not.”

Jack grins, flashing a set of white teeth. “Shame,” he teases, watching as Kirill sips his drink. “That you don’t have a first name. What will I moan later tonight when I have you in my bed?”

“Who said I would be in your bed?”

“Touché.”

He spies Kirill’s lips fighting the urge to curl into an amused grin. Jack watches him down the rest of his drink before Kirill turns to him. “This bed of yours,” he says.

“Yes…”

Kirill leans over. “I believe that my bed is closer,” he tells him thickly, his breath warm against Jack’s neck.

“You do?” Jack replies, trying to suppress the shudder of pleasure that runs through his body. He sees Kirill nod. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

The hotel room has been turned over by room service by the time they come back. 

It’s nothing like their bedroom at home where all of it is familiar and theirs, but it’s comfortable, clean, and has a large bed whose tightly made sheets just scream to be ruined. He shrugs off his coat, watching as Kirill does the same and carelessly toss it onto an empty chair. In the light of the room, Jack takes in Kirill’s lean body hidden under dark clothing and his capable hands as Kirill reaches into a bag to fetch lube.

“A bit presumptuous,” Jack drawls.

Kirill turns, his face stoic. “Did you come here to chat?” he asks as he sits down on the bed.

Jack makes his way over to Kirill, shrugging coyly. “Depends on your idea of chatting,” he says as he situates himself between Kirill’s legs. He runs his hands over the material of the other man’s pants, watching his reaction.

Kirill has a good game face—he always has—though his hazel eyes give him away. Barely contained lust is swirling in those hypnotic irises, tempered with something possessive and dark. His gaze flickers between Jack’s hands and his face, watching and waiting.

He says nothing as he reaches for Jack’s wrists and pulls him forward.

Jack grins mischievously and licks his lips. He’s about to say something cheeky when Kirill’s hand clasps the back of his head and guides him into a demanding kiss that makes Jack’s breath hitch. He groans into Kirill’s mouth, relishing the way that his tongue flicks and teases.

“I like your idea of chatting,” Jack utters breathlessly when he and Kirill part for air. He feels the flush spread across his cheeks, burning as hotly as the erection between his thighs. Kirill only smirks in reply. He runs his thumb over Jack’s cheek before kissing him again. It’s sharper this time as Kirill drags his teeth over Jack’s lip and bites down, drawing out a bit of blood. Jack presses his body into Kirill’s and goes to reach for his jaw when Kirill tugs his hands.

“ _Nyet_ ,” he says through saliva slick lips and uses one of his large hands to restrain Jack’s wrists. Kirill presses his lips to Jack’s neck, finding a sensitive spot that makes him moan. “No touching.”

Jack tugs, groaning as Kirill’s grip tightens. “You like giving orders, don’t you?” he rasps. He feels Kirill’s lips manipulating a bruise at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“ _Da_ , I do,” Kirill replies. “On your knees.” Jack complies as Kirill leans in to capture his lips in another heated kiss. He swears he hears his boyfriend growl as he deepens the kiss.

Jack moans as Kirill’s tongue dominates his mouth and stakes claim. He doesn’t dare pull back to slow him down. Kirill’s free hand works Jack’s belt out of the loops of his jeans, fingers pressing against his erection, causing him to whine in frustration. The kiss is broken as Kirill pulls away to loop Jack’s wrists together with the belt. “Is this what you want?” he utters into Jack’s ear as he secures the belt to the metal headboard.

Jack is panting like a feral animal and nods. “Yes,” he gasps as the belt squeezes the delicate skin. “God yes!” He turns his head to see Kirill staring him down.

“Good,” he whispers. His fingers go to Jack’s shoes to pull them off, his socks following. Kirill’s hands find the button on Jack’s jeans and the tag for his zipper.

Jack groans as his zipper is slowly pulled down and his jeans are inched over his hips with his briefs. “Oh fuck…”

“Not yet,” Kirill states.

Jack cries out as his erection is freed and bucks his hips against the mattress as Kirill’s hands touch bare skin. “You better!” he snaps through gritted teeth.

He hears Kirill’s chuckle, low and phantom-like. “Not yet,” he repeats.

Jack protests wordlessly, struggling not to kick or squirm as Kirill pulls his clothing off his legs. He bites his lip when Kirill runs a warm hand up his flank and squeezes his taut ass cheek.

“You like this,” Kirill tells him as he continues touching Jack everywhere but his cock. His fingers press against his perineum and tug lightly on his sack.

Jack turns his head to glare at him. “So?” he retorts.

There is a smug grin on Kirill’s face as he leans over Jack, his fingers bypassing his cock that is now leaking precum to the buttons of his shirt. He captures Jack’s mouth with his, messily brushing their tongues against each other. Jack breathes raggedly and shivers. Kirill is giving him exactly what he wants—the juxtaposition of rough and delicate.

The tension is crackling between them. Kirill unbuttons Jack’s shirt, letting it hang open, his fingers tweaking each nipple to a hard peak. Jack pants and moans, just short of begging for more when Kirill eases off him.

Jack turns his head, as much as he can, to see Kirill ridding himself of his clothing. Underneath the worn fabric, there is hard muscle and lines. His chest has sparse hair in the middle and a trail leading down to his ruddy cock that is hard and turning red. There are scars, faded with age and Jack has kissed all of them. He’s claimed them with his mouth and hands, turning them from painful reminders to something of beauty.

Kirill catches Jack looking at him and smirks. “You like what you see?”

“Do you see me complaining?” Jack counters.

Kirill throws back his head and laughs in response. He is still laughing when he crawls over Jack’s naked lower half and sinks his teeth into his ass.

Jack shudders as Kirill applies more pressure and laps the bruising and broken skin with his tongue. He drops his head, panting hot and wet against the headboard. “Fuck,” he gasps.

He knows Kirill is reaching for the lube that lies somewhere on the bed. The sound of the bottle being uncapped follows.

“Spread your legs,” Kirill whispers into the small of Jack’s back. Jack complies, rocking his hips so his erection can receive some friction from the mattress. Jack bites his lip at the sensation just as Kirill’s fingers trail down between his cheeks.

The other man toys with his hole, stroking and brushing against his opening before sliding a finger in. Jack sighs with relief at the intrusion. “More,” he whimpers.

“Patience,” Kirill says as he slides his finger in and out of Jack’s ass.

Jack writhes under him when a second finger is added. He can feel sweat gathering on his skin, trapped beneath his shirt and Kirill’s body. “Patience is overrated,” he grunts.

“Is it?” Kirill muses as he thrusts his fingers in and out of Jack, dislodging a moan.

Jack keens. He cries out as Kirill’s fingers dexterously work his passage with hard, punishing thrusts. They barely graze his prostate with each pass, earning more verbal affirmations and sounds of frustration.

They continue kissing as Kirill withdraws his fingers and goes to slick up his hard length. Jack can taste the salt of Kirill’s skin and swallows his low groan. “Finally,” Jack quips when his boyfriend lines himself up with his opening.

Kirill pushes in without preamble, filling Jack’s passage up with his cock. Both men groan at the sensation, especially when Kirill pumps into Jack with short, shallow strokes.

“More,” Jack groans, turning his head. “Please, baby, please.”

Kirill changes his strokes, slowly increasing the speed, depth, and hardness until Jack is gasping and begging him.

Jack thrusts back onto him, struggling against the pull of his belt against his wrists. Kirill grips his hips, fucking him harder, and his nails scratching the tender skin.

“Kirill,” Jack cries out, his body quivering with need. He forgets that it’s just a game; he can’t help himself. Kirill has always had that effect on him.

He whimpers as Kirill slips his free hand between his legs and starts stroking his leaking, aching cock. Jack mewls and bucks from the touch. “Yes… _please_ ,” Jack stutters. Kirill replies with a well-angled thrust of his hips, earning a gasp from Jack. He thrusts into Jack’s prostate as his hand jacks his cock. Just when Jack gets close, he changes his angle.

Jack swears and begs, trying to get Kirill’s cock back into place, to no avail. He is trembling under him, his body ready to explode.

“When you cum,” Kirill rasps into Jack’s ear, “you scream _my_ name.”

Jack closes his eyes and nods. “Whatever you want,” he whispers as Kirill changes his angle once more, drilling into that spot that lights him up like a tree during the holidays.

Without another word, Kirill fucks him into climax.

Jack cries out as his world goes white and he falls into his orgasm. His body erupts, nerves singing in pleasure and agony as Kirill continues to fuck his quivering hole. “Baby!” he screams, his voice echoing off the walls of the hotel room. “Fuck, Kirill!”

He is still suffering from the aftershocks when Kirill lets go out of his spent cock and pumps roughly into his ass, crying out as he cums. He is speaking Russian; filthy words more likely than not as he empties himself deep inside of Jack.

They collapse on top of each other, both of them breathing hard as Kirill carefully slides out of Jack.

Kirill reaches up and unbuckles the belt around Jack’s wrists, rubbing the abraded skin as he lowers the limbs. “You okay?” he asks into the back of Jack’s neck.

“Think so,” Jack says as he collapses against the mattress, exhausted. He rolls over to his backside with a grin. “I wasn’t expecting this when I got your note.”

Kirill snorts, pressing a gentle kiss to Jack’s hair, and nods. “I thought that since we were on vacation, we could change it up,” he confesses, speaking heavily accented English. “Did you like it?”

“I’m not complaining,” Jack replies with a grin. “Though the people next door might.”

Kirill laughs and pulls his lover into a kiss as he helps Jack shrug out of his shirt. They push back the bed linens and get underneath, where he falls into Kirill’s arms. It’s not a half bad way to spend the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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